Zombies Ate My Schoolmates
by ataleoffiction
Summary: Zombies are on the attack in Ohio.  First victims, the Dalton Academy Warblers.  Can they survive the apocalypse with Nick leading the charge?  McKinley and Lima survivors to come.
1. 1  You're Gonna Lose That Girl

NOTE: I don't own Glee, but I'm working on it.

Summary: Zombies attack Ohio. Will include some of the McKinley crew eventually as mains, with traditional pairings like Brittana. Nick's currently my POV, and I'm unsure if I want to pair him up with anyone. Any votes?

**Zombies Ate My Schoolmates**

**Chapter 1**

So... hey. My name is Nick Duval. And let me be honest with you, life is pretty sweet at the moment.

We'd managed to trounce _Chordially Yours_ and _A Little Flat_ at our Sectionals competition a few weeks ago, even without our perpetual soloist Blaine Anderson. I admit, we'd all been worried with Blaine's transfer to McKinley High in order to spend his boyfriend's senior year together. Oh. Not because of the competition, but that we wouldn't be able to rise to the challenge - that the council had been too reliant on his voice alone to get us through competitions. Even though the mood was tempered by Andy's poker face, I'll never forget David and Thad's smirking faces when the council elected me for lead soloist. I campaigned hard for a change in our modus operandi for Sectionals with Jeff, Andy and Sebastian all having solos during competition. It's _lead_ soloist, not _only_ soloist, after all. The gamble paid off obviously, and I truly believe the big "W" was more fulfilling with eveyrone's involvement.

In order to step up our game, the council proposed the idea of hiring the Legendary Jesse St. James as show choir consultant, but we were a day late and a dollar short, so to speak. Ohio's competitive show choir circuit lost him to Carmel High and not as a consultant, but as the new coach for _Vocal Adrenaline_. Rumor says he'd gotten rid of their lead singer Sunshine because of her inability to dance, and brought in Harmony... something, from Defiance High School's _Unitards_. Her show choir **lost** to the _New Directions_, by the by, but the girl is talented and she's only a sophomore. With a monster like Jesse St. James at the helm, she jumped at the chance. The way I heard it, Vocal Adrenaline's boosters paid for her family's move from Defiance to Akron, a new house, and a Range Rover for that Harmony girl.

I'm not jealous, and I love Dalton and my Warblers... but holy fucking shit, right? That's a serious recruiting drive. Okay. So maybe I am jealous. Sue me. I'd like a Range Rover.

We'll have to face New Directions once again for Regionals, but luckily for both our teams, Vocal Adrenaline is in another competition bracket. With everyone finally back from winter break, we've started a new semester this week and have been practicing hardcore for Regionals. In fact, that's what we're doing right now.

_You're gonna lose that girl (Yes, yes, you're gonna lose that girl)_

_You're gonna lo-o-ose that girl (Yes, yes, you're gonna lose that girl)_

_If you don't take her out tonight_

_She's gonna change her mind (She's gonna change her mind)_

_And I will take her out tonight_

_And I will treat her kind (I'm gonna treat her kind)_

_You're gonna lose that girl (Yes, yes, you're gonna lose that girl)_

_You're gonna lo-o-ose that girl (Yes, yes, you're gonna lose that girl)_

It felt so good to be back. Prancing around, spinning, doing that general boy band impersonation. Thad is keeping rhythm with a pair of maracas, and Domininc's revealed a new talent, strumming on a vintage Gretsch Country Club guitar he'd inherited from his grandpa. It has this beautiful sunburst finish; really, you need to see it in person to appreciate how good it looks after all these years.

_If you don't treat her right, my friend_

_You're gonna find her gone (You're gonna find her gone)_

_And I will treat her right, and then_

_You'll be the lonely one (You're not the only one)_

_You're gonna lose that girl (Yes, yes, you're gonna lose that girl)_

_You're gonna lo-o-ose that girl (Yes, yes, you're gonna lose that girl)_

_You're gonna lo-o-ose... (Yes, yes, you're gonna lose that girl)_

It's only then do I see her in the corridor: the Woman In Red. Ms. Hansen, my 2nd period French teacher. Probably the most beautiful woman I can imagine even wanting to be a teacher, instead of a model or an actress or something. She's dressed fairly casually today - red blouse, black wool trousers, black Christian Louboutin peep toes. She's wearing her glasses and her hair's in a pony tail, like normal. There's a jacket clutched in front her teaching books. Must have worn a pant suit.

There's a ghost of a smile on her lips as she watches us. She's long since stopped trying to quiet us down during our in-school performances and, as I see Sebastian grinning at her, can't help but wonder about her reasons for coming around so often. Nevertheless, I make my way closer to Ms. Hansen and wink, spinning back to the group as she turns her attention my way with a smile.

**(Jeff & Sebastian together)**

_I'll make a point of takin' her away from you (Watch what you do) yeah_

_The way you treat her, what else can I do?_

Now Dominic takes center floor, laying into the strings as he mimics George's guitar solo. The acoustic quality of that 60-year old guitar truly is amazing. I can see how he relishes the chance to shine, instead of being a singing, dancing background member of the group. Drew and Andy do a few flips, which always puts a smile on our faces.

_(You're gonna lose that girl)_

_(You're gonna lose that girl)_

_You're gonna lose that girl (Yes, yes, you're gonna lose that girl)_

_You're gonna lo-o-ose that girl (Yes, yes, you're gonna lose that girl)_

_You're gonna lo-o-ose... (Yes, yes, you're gonna lose that girl)_

_You're gonna lose (Yes, yes, you're gonna lose) that gi-i-irl _

"Good job, boys!" Our single audience member slowly claps for us, as much as her textbooks will allow, and we bow in unison for her. It's nice to have a fan. As she turns to leave, a scream rips from her throat, along with a cry for help.

We rush over only to find Jackson Phelps's pale body convulsing on the floor. "Does-" I'm suddenly feeling faint, as I see the blood beginning to ooze from his left arm. Under greater scrutiny, I realize his hands are covered in blood. I hope it's only his. "Does anyone know CPR?"

"Fuck CPR, we need a god damn ambulance!" I think that's the first time I've ever heard David curse, but something tells me it won't be the last. Sebastian's already got his jacket off, putting pressure on the wound while James has his hand on Jack's neck; I assume he's checking for vital signs.

I turn to see Jeff pacing, and fanning himself. "Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod..." and it doesn't look like he'll be of much use in this situation. I clap my hands at him, but it fails to snap him out of his panic.

"He's gone." "Holy Shit."

The words come from James and Sebastian at the same time, but we all hear them clearly. It feels like the air's been taken from the room. It's so stifling. David's phone slips from his hand, crashing to the floor. I'm not sure anyone else is listening at this point, but there's only a busy signal on the other end. All switchboards are down. _What the hell is going on?_

"Are the paramedics coming?" It was the first time Ms. Hansen's said anything since her screams brought us out into the hallway. "Mr. Thompson? David? I asked if they were coming?"

"I - uh..."

As he stuttered for an answer, I shook my head, "No. I can hear the recording on the other end. 'Please try your call again.' How can they be that busy?"

Suddenly, a growl breaks us all from our reverie and Sebastian is screaming like, well, like Jackson Phelps is tearing a chunk of flesh from his neck. As he falls, we all back away from those panicked screams and the blood spurting from Sebastian's throat. I don't remember blood being that bright the last time I got a cut. Is that what it looks like when coming from an artery? There's a strangled cry from James as Jackson turns to attack him, finger clutched tightly onto his jacket, bloody mouth snapping as Jack fights for more flesh. I instinctively move in front of Ms. Hansen as my eyes find the rest of the Warblers. The look in each of my team mate's eyes is so confused, as mine must be, caught between wanting to help free James and getting the hell away from there.

It's decided in an instant, when Sebastian is back on his feet, rushing Andy into a wall.

"RUN!" Dominic is the first to act, smashing his grandfather's guitar against Sebastian's shoulder. I take Ms. Hansen's wrist and turn tail, tugging at Jeff's jacket as we flee from the scene. My blonde-haired roommate is the only one with enough guts to look back as Dom screams out for his mother, drowning out the sounds of fleeing students. _I'll never forget forget you, Dom._

"What the hell is going on, Nick?"

"Fuck! I - I don't know. It's - we need a fucking place to hide!"

Ms. Hansen speaks up again, but it's so quiet, so trembling we can barely hear her, "Zombies."

"You heard her. We need to hide from the zombies!"

_Shit._It sounds ridiculous, but zombies are just about the worst, most realistic horror film scenario to come to life. We come to a stop at the Warbler choir room and find it locked. Locked! Those little shits. "Damn it, let us in!"

Jeff starts to yank on the door handles, but it's no use. The locks are strong, and the doors are so thick. Whoever's inside isn't saying anything. Hopefully it's because of shame and not because they're dead. Or undead. I decide to move on, dragging my shrieking duo towards the rec room. It's built similarly to our choir room: one entrance - heavy double doors, with thick locks and handles that can take a beating, and a fireplace large enough to heat the room. However, there are smaller windows, higher up from the floor, maybe 6 feet up from outside the building; and there are a few vending machines, which may prove to be a godsend in the days to come.

_Thank you Coca-Cola, and your need to earn money from hungry high school students.  
><em> 

_***Okay. Hoping to continue with this, if time permits. I just had an idea with Nick, and had to get it out there.**  
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	2. 2 Breaking News

With a click on the deadbolt, we reach the relative safety of the Dalton Rec Room.

I turn towards Jeff as he and I slump back against the doorway, sliding down until our butts hit the cold, marble flooring. Throwing my arm over his shoulders, I bring our heads together. "I can't believe that just happened."

He closes his eyes, taking large, even breaths. I know Jeff is trying to calm himself, to slow his breathing. I've seen it enough times before tests and solo auditions.

"Bumpaddle, coming through."

We barely have the time to duck as we see Ms. Hansen run up to us, cricket bat in hand. She manages to slide it through both doorhandles, allowing it to act like a brace for the double doors. It's not super tight, but it'll we can find something else to help secure the door.

"Good idea, Ms. H!" Jeff stands up quickly, and retrieves a couple of pool cues from the wall. They're thin, but we manage to wedge them in with the cricket bat so nothing's loose enough to slide out if anyone starts to push on the door. There's a tapestry swinging my way and being stuffed against the threshold. Another good idea. I'd guess it's to help block light and sound from escaping through the gap between the bottom of the door and the floor. My suspicions are confirmed as the TV comes to life, I'm hoping the volume is set low enough to keep it from being heard through the doors.

Jeff is fiddling in the corner with the telephone, growing increasingly frustrated each time he hangs up and tried dialing a number on the keypad. No dice.

Ms. Hansen's finally settled on a channel, which I immediately recognize as WOHN-TV. In fact, it's the familiar, but grim, faces of Rod Remington and Andrea Carmichael that prove me correct. Andrea's face is puffy and her eyes are threatening to spill with tears, but Rod only has a brow quirked as he gazes into the camera. The man's a pro.

I've suddenly got this awful feeling in my stomach.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. I'm Rod Remington -"

"And... and I'm Andrea Carmichael -"

"Late breaking news: an infection has broke out in the Midwestern United States, and it seems to be spreading fast throughout America. All police forces are mobilizing along with the Army and the National Guard, but there is no confirmation of containment of the outbreak." There's a clatter to my left as Andrea dabs at her eyes with a tissue, and I see the phone's slipped from Jeff's hand. "Ohioans, the government is currently asking for everyone to stay calm and lock yourselves in your homes. Make sure your windows and doors are secured, and keep alert for any attempts at breaking in." 

Andrea seems to finally compose herself, and continues with the story. "The infection has been confirmed to be transmitted through bodily fluids, such as blood and saliva. Transmission has been verified through ingestion, absorption through mucous membranes, blood smeared against broken skin, and bites. Bites? There are tales of..." she glances at her papers, eyes going wide. "There are tales of people dying from the infection, only to rise again and start attacking others, biting, scratching, and devouring human flesh."

I can see the co-anchor trying to muster up the energy to continue, but her hands are shaking. In fact, they're shaking so much I can hear the paper flopping from the small, tinny speakers of the TV. My eyes travel sideways, and I finally take notice of my companions. Jeff fingers are in his hair, furiously pulling at his golden mane; Ms Hansen, meanwhile, just clutches her hands to her chest as we watch the news program.

"For everyone trying to defend themselves from these infected attackers, the only verified method of subduing - or killing - them is through trauma to the brain. For God's sake, people. Zombies are running around on the streets, hungering for delicious, human flesh. I'll spare you any tasteless jokes, as we hope to provide you more information throughout the day. I'm Rod Remington -"

"And I'm Andrea Carmichael -" 

"This is your Lima, Ohio WOHN News 8 team... signing out."

I am completely, and utterly, deflated.


End file.
